


Search and Rescue

by EdwardNotSoLittle



Category: Strike Back
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bathing/Washing, Fix-It, Gen, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rescue Missions, Serious Injuries, Torture, bros being bros, kidnapped character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 23:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21127361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdwardNotSoLittle/pseuds/EdwardNotSoLittle
Summary: A fix it of sorts because Baxter...Instead of Kamali deciding to dispose of a nuisance he has other plans.Michael and Damien are pulled from their vacation to a rescue a fellow comrade.





	Search and Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> First Strikeback fic be gentle please!
> 
> Please note: I have only been able to see a  
handful of episodes because of shitty internet connections.
> 
> Any OOC or timeline screw ups is not intended and will probably be edited later.
> 
> This is canon divergent because I am just a sad fangirl.

"Baxter's been compromised." Richmond explained over the roar of the chopper.

"What? How? Where is he?"

\- - -

Damien grumbled as they hurried into the room where Baxter was being held.

He was in awful shape.

The poor kid was tied to a chair, covered head to toe in blood, bruises, and nasty looking burns all visible since he'd been stripped down to his boxers.

His head was drooping so low it that his chin touched his collarbone. There was a particularly brutal burn on on the left side of his face over his eye, the skin blackened and swollen his eye shut. 

A wadded up blue.. and now red, dress shirt was stuffed into his mouth as a makeshift gag and his other eye was closed.

_'Unconscious. Please be unconscious.'_ Michael thought as he reached down to feel for a pulse.

He let out a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding before turning to Damien and motioning the man to cover him.

They'd killed a lot of the men in this compound including a couple armed men outside this room, likely guarding Kamali's captive.

Still, they didn't want to take anymore chances.

Michael took a deep breath setting his rifle on the ground beside him as he knelt, pulling out his knife to get to work on those ropes.

First he wanted to try to wake him.

"Baxter." he called softly giving the man a nudge.

The younger man let out the most pitiful noise he'd ever heard in his life, his head lolling to the other side as a pale green eye slowly opened.

"Mmnnph...?" he groaned softly trying to lift his head. 

Michael crouched down lower trying to meet the man's eyes but he couldn't, not very well anyways.

"Mmffhh... Mmnn..."

"Shh, easy mate. We got you. Let's get you outta here, yeah?" 

Carefully he eased the shirt from his mouth, cringing as a thin stream of blood dribbled from the back of his parted lips to land on the pale skin of his thighs.

He wheezed loudly and tried to raise his head but gave up with a pitiful groan and his visible eye drooping tiredly.

Uttering a small curse at the man's condition he tossed the blood and saliva soaked shirt to the floor. 

Mike reached up again tapping Baxter's cheek softly.

"C'mon mate, beauty sleep is overrated love. Time to wake up." he teased gently still trying to rouse the man awake.

When the black haired man let out something akin to a strangled sob Michael lifted his chin trying to look at his visible pupil for a concussion.

No, but he could see how the black circle was so small it almost appeared a spec. Clearly their friend was drugged with something. 

He also noted how the white of his eye was pure crimson with broken blood vessels. 

"Well fuck."

Damien looked over his shoulder for a moment in concern but agitation was evident in his voice. "What? Wake him up already Mikey."

"Not happening Scott, assholes got him drugged up good. He's totally fucking out of it." he stated beginning to saw through the ropes that kept their associate secured.

"Fuck me." the American huffed already catching on that only one of them would be shooting at this point.

"You're the better shot. I'll worry about him." 

"Please... I-I'm just a jouu.. journalist... don... don't know w-what you want..." Baxter finally was able to force out something. 

That was a good sign.

"Liam, hey mate, I'm gonna pick you up. We gotta go." he explained as he untangled the last of the ropes from Baxter's body. 

\- - -

"God dammit Mike!" Damien yelled at the Brit as he leaped over a couple corpses.

"Fuck off Scott! I'm moving as fast as I bloody can! He's heavier than he looks." he yelled as he made their way toward a truck that Damien had secured.

Baxter kept weaving in and out of consciousness at the rough, jostling movements of Michael's quick pace. 

"M-Mistake... I'm... a j-jour... journalist..." Baxter rasped through a heavy haze of disorientation.

"Yeah? Well we get outta here and you can be whatever the fuck you want, mate." Michael replied quietly as Damien opened the back seat. 

"I'm... J-Journalist... A-Associ... - ated... Press... C-Credentials... look..."

"Wasn't that his cover?" the American asked.

Michael just shrugged as he hoisted Baxter into the back seat laying the man down. "He's disoriented and high as a damn kite Scott."

"Aw man, fuck me..." Damien's voice snapped him to attention.

He turned to look at the American who was staring at him nervously.

Glancing down he saw that his fatigues were covered in blood. 

A lot of blood.

"You drive, I'll give him a once over."

"Fine but be ready to grab a gun if I need you to."

Michael snorted a laugh as he slid into the back seat with their wounded companion. "Copy that."

He managed to get the younger man sitting up but he still couldn't keep his head up.

"Liam, hey mate, how we doing?"

No response.

"How's his eye?" Damien asked looking through the rear-view mirror.

Michael tilted the man's face up toward him and let out a hiss of breath.

His left eye was swollen shut by blackened, peeling, and bloody skin. 

Carefully he prodded at the skin using gentle fingers to ease the swollen skin away from his eye. 

It didn't look infected but Michael had a feeling if they didn't get the man medical attention soon he would loose that eye, if it wasn't already beyond repair.

Baxter's other eye flew open, pupil blown and the poor man howled and his arms flew up in an attempt to push him away.

Much to Michael's surprise the younger man burst into tears looking around the car in a panic.

"I-I don't know! I don't know anything!" his pleas came both heavily slurred by the drugs in his system and interrupted by hysterical sobs.

"Woah, easy mate!" Michael exclaimed dodging a flailing arm.

"I-I'm just a journalist! Y-You've got the wrong person! P-Please... oh...oh stop... please!"

"Jesus Mike! What the fuck did you do to him?!" the American shouted. 

"Nothing! I'm trying to fucking look him over!"

He turned back to their hysterical comrade and swallowed thickly. 

When he was captured by Matlock's men and that asshole worked him over it wasn't anything like this.

Poor Baxter was absolutely terrified his calm and cool demeanour totally shattered, but still the man was determined not to crack and give away information. 

Carefully he pulled the man closer dodging flailing limbs and keeping a tight hold on him when he shrieked and tried to pull away.

"Baxter! It's us mate, Stonebridge and Scott it's-"

**'Bravo, this is Zero.'**

Huffing in irritation at the timing Michael touched his com piece.

"Zero, this is Bravo Team."

**'Report.'**

"Target has been recovered."

Up front Damien touched his own com as Julia's voice filled his ear.

**'Damien.'** Julia's concerned voice came through the com piece again.

"Bravo One, Copy."

**'Its Julia, I switched to a different channel. Is he-?'**

"Alive. They worked him over pretty fucking good too." Damien answered as he continued to drive back towards the ridge where they'd landed and set up a small camp. 

It was still quite a drive but they would have to ditch the car sometime before they came too close. 

"He's fucking terrified Richmond. Bastards pumped him full of narcotics. Man doesn't even know where the hell he is. Mikey's trying to look him over now."

Mike however, finally was able to notice the copious amount of crimson starting to run down the back of Baxter's legs.

Jesus... they didn't? 

He wouldn't put it past the sick fucks.

That was when he noticed how the blood was smeared across the back of the seat too.

Hopefully that's where that blood originated.

"Shit!" he grumbled, realizing the poor man was likely to bleed out if they didn't find out what was wrong with him.

With renewed urgency he reached forward gripping Liam's shoulders tightly and dragging him towards him. 

The other man still fought or tried to, thrashing sluggishly against his hold as he pulled him into his lap. 

"Ah! N-No! No stop! Please! I already told you.. I'm... I'm Associated Press!"

"Mike! What the fuck are you doing!?" Damien yelled furiously at him from the front seat.

Barring his upper body to his chest with a muscled arm he grunted as he ignored the man's heels that struck his shins as he kicked wildly and the broken fingernails that clawed at his wrist. He took his com piece out of his ear.

"Shut the fuck up! He's bleeding everywhere! Keep driving! Have her switch to my com, see if she can calm him down!"

Damien looked forward again tapping his ear piece and speaking softly.

It wasn't easy trying to restrain the flailing man he was twisting and babbling uselessly as he sobbed and begged. 

_'Good God they fucking broke him.'_ He thought furiously.

They would pay for this.

Putting the com piece between his teeth for a brief second he took a moment to get a better handle on Baxter, wrestling his arms down and pinning them to his sides so he could hold their hysterical comrade tightly against his chest.

"Easy Liam, hold still mate." he gruffed trying to put the device in the younger Brit's ear.

Baxter wanted nothing to do with the com piece though, he kept jerking his head away from his hand for several minutes before he managed to get it situated in his ear. Mike kept his head pressed tightly against his shoulder to keep it still and the poor man continued to cry and beg.

"I'm a journalist! I'm a journalist! I swear! I-"

**'Liam? Oh thank God! It's good to hear your voice.'**

Julia's tone seemed to reach him somehow because he stopped struggling immediately. 

A small noise of confusion came from the back of his throat at the woman's voice and Michael got to work quickly in assessing the man's injuries.

Palpating along his torso and ribs he could feel a couple breaks and Liam tried to wiggle away from his touch with a strangled gasp.

Uttering a soft apology he eased him forward slightly.

There! 

Mike had to look away for a second at the gaping and halfway crudely cauterized gouge that ran crossways all the way down Baxter's back. 

It started from the back of his left shoulder blade and ran all the way down his back to curve around his right hip before disappearing into the waistband of his boxers.

Blood was smeared all over his back, the back of his neck and shoulders.

It looked borderline infected.

Concerned by the amount of blood dripping down the man's legs he began to pull the right leg of his shorts up some and Baxter went absolutely wild.

"No!! N-Not that! Get your bloody hands off me!"

With a burst of adrenaline the man threw his head back, hard, and it cracked against Mike's face with a dull snapping sound as blood began to gush from his nose.

"Arrrgh!! Fucking hell, mate!" Michael bellowed instinctively releasing his hold to cup his broken nose.

Liam threw himself toward the door hands scrambling for the door latch and pulling. 

With eyes as wide as saucers Mike watched as the man threw open the door. The breeze and rustling of plants as the vehicle moved in the vast jungle roared to life in the interior.

"Oh fuck me!!" Damien yelled slamming on the brakes in case their companion jumped out. 

Oh and he damn near did.

"Bloody hell!!"

Mike lunged, grabbing the smaller man around the waist and threw his weight backward, pulling Baxter with him as he struggled in a blind panic.

"N-No! I won't! I won't! Y-You.. You can't do this! Please don't!"

Damien stopped the car and twisted in his seat to look at him in agitation.

"Knock him out!"

Mike scowled, "We don't know if-"

"Fucking hell Mikey! He almost jumped out of the car! Knock him the fuck out!"

"Please! I already told you! I'm just a journalist! I-I don't know anything! Please! Please don't do this to me!" the man choked between violent hiccups. 

Heaving a sigh, or more growling, Mike's hand found the back of Baxter's neck and the man wiggled and writhed in his arms, now no longer trying to sell a cover but swearing profusely at him.

"You fucking bastards! Don't you dare fucking touch me! I swear I'll-"

Applying pressure from two fingers in just the right spot had the younger Brit's words cut off and he seized violently and then went still.

Baxter's bare and bleeding back slumped against his vest and his head had fallen back in a tilted angle as if he was looking up at him. His split and blood covered lips were parted as he breathed in his unconscious state. 

Damien ran his hand through his short hair before climbing out of the car to shut the back seat door that Liam had opened.

\- - - 

Thanks to him, mostly, they were able to snag hold of a boat and get back to Beirut, after checking with Dalton about where their mission had gone wrong and Baxter ended up in Kamali's hands in the first place, they finally decided on a hotel they believed was far enough away from the area.

Although just to be on the safe side they stocked up on food, medical supplies, some clean clothes for the three of them, water, and some alcohol to take the edge off, before they booked a room. Both of them had already decided that once they were in the 'safety' of a hotel room, they would not be emerging until Dalton radioed them and notified that their ride to go back home was on the damn ground.

Safe? Fuck no where was safe at this point, but both them knew that they still had several mags of ammo and they wouldn't hesitate to shoot someone suspicious if they were to come knocking. Not with Baxter's condition. Kamali had no doubt already heard that his outpost had been raided and that his prisoner was nowhere to be seen. If the man knew as much as Dalton claimed he did, he would know it was a rescue and they were close.

Fuck, it wasn't like they could go far with Baxter in the state he was in. They needed time to give him medical attention because clearly he needed it, badly. Their biggest concern was infection.

It was tricky getting Baxter into their hotel room, but if there was one thing Damien knew Mikey was good at, it was making a distraction.

He carried the man straight into the bathroom the room offered, laying the man down on the pristine white tile floor.

Not pristine anymore.

Michael had managed to stem the heaviest of the blood flow that originated the middle of the gash on his back. He'd found a towel that he had pressed up against it and used his belt to fasten it around Baxter's chest in attempt to keep it in place.

At least it bought them some time.

Baxter groaned softly upon feeling his bare skin connect with the cool surface of the ceramic tiles, turning his head to let the swollen, burnt skin around his eye to press against it, and breathing out a pained but relieved sigh.

_'Must feel good. Poor guy.'_

The door to the room opened outside the bathroom and Michael's voice reached his ears.

"Scott?" 

"In here buddy." he called just low enough to be heard by the Brit.

Mike soon emerged through the small threshold, looking rather comical with tissues shoved up his nostrils.

He closed the door as he entered, setting down a bag of stuff for first aid that they normally had on them in case of emergencies. 

Michael lowered himself to his knees on Baxter's other side, before meeting his gaze nervously. 

"Let's get those off him. He's got some sort of injury on his leg and he freaked out when I tried earlier, best do it now while he's out."

Damien nodded and he helped the Brit strip their injured comrade not at all bothered by his nakedness. 

They were all men here.

Besides they'd both seen Baxter naked before in the showers.

It didn't escape him how both of them were guilty of cringing when they finally got a look at what was underneath the only article that had been covering him.

There was a huge gash going along the inside of his inner right thigh near his nuts and his right his testicle had been brutally mutilated with a blade.

"Those sick fuck's... no wonder he's such a mess." Damien growled hatefully. 

He needed professional attention but it was too risky just checking him into a hospital. 

They would have to do what they could.

"Let's look at his back." he was bleeding there the most.

With Damien's help he carefully rolled the Liam onto his belly while trying to be mindful of his injuries in the process.

Mike grabbed their first aid stuff and began pulling things out of the bag one by one setting them on the floor so he had an idea of what they had to work with.

There were a couple narrow cases that held capped syringes and vials of powder with labels. The label said antibiotics but had different types.

Good those will help.

"Why are there so many?" Mike gruffed in frustration.

"That's probably in case of people having allergies to some of them?"

Scowling he shot the man a baffled look, "What?"

"Fuck me, you know like if someone's allergic to Penicillin or shit there's an alternative."

Tension eased in his shoulders and he nodded.

"Does Baxter have allergies?"

Scott merely shrugged which was answer enough.

Huffing out a sigh Michael took put his cellphone and dialled Julia knowing he had better reception now.

She worked with Baxter more than they did. Maybe she could help.

_'Michael?'_

"Hey Julia, do you know if Baxter has any allergies?"

_'Allergies?'_

"To medicine."

_'No but I can pull his file. How bad is he?'_

Reluctantly he began to explain the visible horrors that had been inflicted upon the younger man, his stomach churning with the fact that some of them were probably things Baxter would have wanted to keep to himself.

But Julia didn't judge. Not one bit.

\- - - 

"Julia says we'll need to get him cleaned up to prevent infections." Michael said as he finished the last stitch and was now preparing a syringe of Ertapenam, having already mixed the powder with some water.

While the Brit took hold of Baxter's arm to inject the medicine Damien had looked at the shower warily. 

Should they really be man handling Liam so much?

"No, bath mate." Mike answered his unasked question.

The American looked at him and heaved a sigh.

"She also says to keep his head and neck above water with those burns, use light soap, and try to keep his back as straight as possible to prevent the stitches from popping." Mike's voice came nervous and a bit uncomfortable.

Scott narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "Why did you say it like that?"

"The shape of this fucking tub is wanky, mate. He'll slide right down if we try to prop him up in this thing, and because of that she recommended one of us getting in with him, to keep him upright."

"Oh fuck no! Don't look at me buddy." he spat with a shake of his head. 

"Oi! I know you've slept with men so don't even try to pull the I'm not fucking gay card! You don't have to be naked with him but get your ass in there, you tool!"

Huffing irritably Damien stood and began to strip until he was in just his boxers.

Deciding it best to wash any dirt and shit off himself first he grabbed a couple wash cloths and turned the tap on the sink. Passing a hot rag over warm tanned skin and scrubbing at flecks of ash, blood, and dirt until the rags were soiled to all hell but he was cleaner.

Michael ran the water checking the temperature every now and then until it was full of clear clean water.

With him done giving himself of brief wash he turned at Mike's voice.

"Get in, I got him."

In all honesty a bath sounded super relaxing.

As he made his way to the bathtub he heard Mike let out a grunt of effort as he lifted their companion off the tile floor.

One foot and then the other as he stepped into the warm water had him releasing a relaxed content sigh. 

Damn that felt good.

Easing himself down he was a little surprised by how deep this bath was as water licked at a level several inches above his navel.

"Fuck it's more like a jacoozi. Ooh that's nice." 

Stonebridge chuckled as he shifted his hold on their comrade being careful of his footing with the blood making the once white tile slick.

"Yeah? Well you can enjoy it later mate." he said when he was just at the edge of the bath. 

Casting his gaze up he could briefly see how Baxter's head lay limp against Michael's shoulder, a couple drips of blood fell a still bleeding wound, landing in the clear water beside his calves.

He couldn't help but stare at the submerged drop as it spread out in whispy pink tendrils as it floated to the bottom of the bath.

"Careful with him mate." 

The American sighed and reluctantly reached his arms up as Mike bent forward lowering the battered body down into the warm water as he passed Liam over to him.

Almost as soon as the man's skin touched the warm water, it had started to turn pink that darkened by the minute.

At the feeling of his body being dipped into rather deep water. Liam made a face in his unconscious state, a furrow of his brow that was almost comical were the morbid injuries on his handsome face not present.

Finally he settled him on top of his legs, keeping his torso upright, the water coming up to the bottom of the smaller man's chest.

It was awkward, having to hold a naked man in his lap, especially someone he hadn't been friends with for that terribly long. 

He'd slept with his share of men as well as women to be honest, but he wasn't really interested in Baxter that way.

Not that Liam wasn't good looking, he was, just not his type.

Michael stood to his full height to retrieve a bottle of antibacterial soap from their first aid kit, the small complimentary bottles of shampoo and conditioner, a water bottle, and several wash cloths. 

Baxter shifted against him and Damien tensed as his head lifted from where it had once lay still in a state of unconsciousness.

"Mmnn... w-what?" his voice came hoarse and addled with disorientation.

All the sudden water was splashing everywhere and the man was about to cry out in panic before Damien clamped a hand tightly over his mouth to muffle it.

They couldn't have him freaking out like before. 

Not here.

"Liam, man it's us!" he hissed as the man's limbs sent water flying everywhere.

Michael knelt beside the tub and leaned over it elbows on the edge as he moved in to be at level with Baxter's view.

Almost immediately a confused noise came muffled from behind his hand and a pale green eye went wide with surprise.

What was Michael doing here? 

Wait where was he? 

"Hey Bax, you with us mate? Once for yes. Twice for no." 

The older Brit wouldn't lie, when the other man blinked once he was relieved and he nodded to Scott who let his hand fall away from Liam's mouth.

"Where are we?" he asked quietly after a moment his voice was small and nervous.

"Still in Beirut, in a hotel. We have to lay low for a couple days until Dalton can work out a retrieval." Damien offered.

Baxter tensed as he realized their closeness and the fact that he was naked in a bathtub... with company.

He was about to say something as he tried to move away from the American's chest but stopped when he saw how much blood was in the bath with them, and how he could feel the distinct sting of warm water against painful injuries. The way his whole body shuddered with a painful sting of pulling stitches originating from his back.

“It’s necessary, you have stitches all up your back Liam. Julia said we need to get you clean to prevent infections but it would be wise to have support to your back so the stitches don’t pop.”

Understanding and feeling a sting of pain a small whimper involuntarily escaped him and he had to take a breath as he settled back against the bigger man.

"Y-You better be wearing some bloody pants, mate." he managed.

Both men laughed and he let out an awkward chuckle before trying to lift his arms only to realize now that the adrenaline had worn off how heavy and sore they felt.

Everything hurt. He hurt from head to toe and he knew he must look awful.

Glancing down at the parts of him he could see out of the water he scowled uncomfortably.

He was filthy, covered in blood, sweat, grime, ash and dirt.

No wonder he was in the bath. 

Silently he tried to grab one of the wash cloths off the edge of the tub but the only thing his sore muscles accomplished was to let his arm flop pitifully with a splash. 

“Bollocks...” 

How humiliating. 

“It’s alright, we got you, mate, just rest.” Michael’s gruff reassurance caught his attention more than the gentle dabbing of cloth against his chin. 

All he could manage was an idle nod settling back against Damien’s chest as Michael tossed the American a wash cloth. 

Liam was rather surprised by the gentle care the men used, men who were known to fuck a lot of shit up in the process of getting things done. Lots of rough and tumble, these two. 

Damien worked on his back and shoulders while Michael carefully rubbed away the blood and nastiness from his face, neck and chest. 

He let his eyes slide closed resting the back of his head against Damien’s muscled torso with a small content hum, enjoying the careful massages and the warm water as it soothed his aching muscles. 

Throughout the process they had to drain and refill the tub three times already and they were now on the forth. 

It had been easy to lose himself in the gentle treatment and Damien had to give him a small shake when he’d started to doze off. 

“Do you want your hair washed?” 

Baxter tipped his head back with his non-swollen eye wide and hopeful. “Oh God, yes please. It must look disgusting.” 

“It does, man… it really does.” the American answered honestly, but Michael frowned and swatted him despite the fact that he had grinned at the man’s candid response. 

He passed a water bottle to Damien who poured some of its contents over the back of his head before telling him to tip his face up so he could finish getting his hair wet. 

\- - - - - - 

It was about four days before Dalton was able to get their exit strategy in motion. 

Antibiotics injected every twelve hours, constant check ups on his stitches and wounds, being pestered and prodded awake from the sleep he so desperately wanted to get by Michael (until he finally snapped at him to stop pestering which caused Damien to laugh his ass off), until they finally got out of that hotel room and now as he sat in Richmond’s chopper the only thing on his mind was home. 


End file.
